


Don't Threaten Me With A Good Time

by dickguzzler



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Based On A Panic! At The Disco Song, Drinking, Drug Use, Gambling, Gen, Songfic, i dont know alcoholic drinks so i looked some up and went with the coolest sounding ones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 21:43:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19281751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dickguzzler/pseuds/dickguzzler
Summary: Brendon gets a little too wild and makes some regretful choices.Based off Don't Threaten Me With A Good Time, made circa February 2017.





	Don't Threaten Me With A Good Time

"What the hell?" I groaned out, wincing at the sound. What had happened? My head was fucking killing me though. Where even was I? I could hear voices all around me, growing fainter and then coming back into earshot. Propping myself up on my elbows and forcing myself to open my eyes, I looked down at myself. Wait, where are my clothes?

Sitting up further, I was able to fully look at myself. I just woke up in my underwear. Better than waking up naked like I had first thought. However, that could only mean a handful of things. I finally felt my senses coming back into focus and noticed there was a bottle of empty champagne in my left hand. Another quick inspection of the room and I noticed there were shelves where I guess liquor was meant to be. "No more liquor on the shelf..." I whispered, running my hand through my hair. What the hell even happened last night?

_**~** _

"Yo, let's go!" Someone called out to me and leaned against the door frame. "We've got hurry if we want to be at the pre-party on time. We can't be late this time." Ryan glared at me slightly and tapped his watch indicating that we were on a strict schedule.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Hold on." I adjusted my suit coat and tie before turning to my best friend, smirking. "Alright, let's go fuck shit up." I muttered walking past him and towards the awaiting limousine waiting outside my L.A. flat. Sliding into the backseat, I reached into the mini fridge and pulled out a bottle of brandy. I was already knew that I was going to get trashed at this party, so why not start early?

Ryan sat across from me and shot me a look as if saying ' _Brendon, you know what happens when you drink too much._ ' Pfft, as if I cared. It was called having fun and I was, as my oh-so-perfect friend Mikey would say, addicted to having fun. He sighed and crossed his arms knowing he wouldn't win a battle that hasn't even started. He knew that I wouldn't listen to him anyways.

"Okay, so we're going to meet Dallon and Spencer at the party. Jon and Brent are going to be there too, but just try your best to be friends with them and not start shit. You're going to go and talk to some people, make yourself known with these bigger guys. Don't fuck this up Brendon, we need this."

I waved him off and took a swig from the bottle, before setting it down on the floor between my legs. I leaned forward digging my elbows into my thighs and clasped my hands in front of me. "Don't worry about this Ryan. I'll be a good little boy. I'll have some fun, maybe get trashed, gamble. Nothing you haven't handled before." I sat back, grabbed the bottle and took another swig from it. "Don't worry your pretty little head, I know what I'm doing."

The limousine stopped about half an hour later, telling us that we've arrived. Well, as if the lights and flashing of cameras didn't tell us that already. Tossing the small, empty bottle of wine in the trash next to the many other bottles, I stepped out and looked around at all the screaming fans taking pictures and trying to get closer. I rolled my eyes and waved to them, smiling for the cameras.

"Brendon! Over here!" A guy with a camera called out. "Strike a pose?" Which I gladly did. Quite a few times before Ryan had to usher me inside. Can't a guy strike some poses and get the fangirl's ovaries to explode?

"We've got to..." Ryan's words were drowned out as soon as we stepped into the club. It was like a nightmare and a dream all in one. There were so many people grinding on each other, drinks clutched in their hands with some of it spilling out onto the dance floor. Hell yeah, this was my kind of party. Over in the corner of the room was a crowd of people gathered together for what looked like a poker game, half of the crowd cheering and the other glaring at the card dealer.

Detaching myself from Ryan, I started to push my way through the crowd towards the bar. What kind of drinks do they have? Do they have anything exotic? Anything I could get drunk off of faster? Or did they have some drink I've never heard of before?

"Brendon!" I heard my name being called from behind me, probably Spencer trying to get me away from the liquid heaven.

Sitting on the nearest stool, I fixed my tie and looked over what they had. Nothing I haven't heard of before, but hey why the fuck not go all out? If you're going out, you might as well pass out in a drain pipe. "What can I get you babe?" A blonde asked, appearing into view. Her shirt was too small, and her shorts too short. Of course, what else would you see in a club like this?

I rolled my eyes, before deciding on something a little calmer for right now. "A bourbon and Jack Daniels. Mixed, lime on the side sweetheart." The blonde nodded and went off to make my drink. Sure, I wanted to get hammered pretty quickly but I still wanted to have some idea of where I was and what I was doing. Well, at least for now. The fun part comes later.

She returned with my drink a few minutes later just as someone else was sitting down next to me. I looked over at him and took a sip of the drink, relishing in how it tasted. It could have been better but I guess it would do until I moved into the harder stuff.

The man had a mass of untamed black hair that covered his face, a studded leather jacket, and black skinny jeans ripped at both knees. His jacket sleeves were pushed up, revealing several, dozens, of tiny little bracelets covering both of his wrists. Talk about typical emo trash. He was probably the son of the club manager who was drinking away his problems just because his girlfriend dumped him for some jock. But hey, haven't we all bet there at some point or another?

"A black and red After Shock in a beer glass, please and thanks doll face." The guy said confidently yet still quietly, while looking up at the blonde. The smirk was evident in his voice, and it was pretty clear he was a cocky bastard. He spun around in his stool and looked over at me. "I should probably introduce myself. Bret." Yeah, he sure looked like one too, but he aslo gave off the vibe of someone that I would get along with really well. Another party goer. Someone else who knew this kind of lifestyle, hell if not even better than me. But I was the king of parties, you shoulda' seen what I wore, I had a cane and a party hat. I was the king of this hologram.

"Brendon."

He looked me up and down while the waitress made all the drinks. He was dressed pretty decent for this club, but yet again I'm here in a goddamn suit. Fuck, I wanted to be in something more comfortable but Ryan said I had to make a good impression. He spun around in his seat again and downed his drink, not even bothering to drink the water the girl had given him first. "Mhm, good shit right here. You should try it and not that weak pussy shit." His green eyes shifted back over to me, as if silently judging. He chuckled lightly at what I could only guess was my expression. "Wanna gamble?"

I smirked and nodded. "Don't threaten me with a good time."

**_~_ **

I held my head and fished around for the trashcan, trying to hold back vomit. Fuck, this didn't feel like any of my usual hangovers. And I've had my fair share of them. Wrapping my fingers around something in the shape of a trashcan, I pulled it to my chest and puked up the contents of my stomach. Or at least what was left in it. Ugh, I hated this part of hangovers. I hated puking in general.

I must have sat up too fast again as the room started to spin all around me, only making my stomach churn again. You would have thought that after years of partying I'd have learned how to deal with this by now. It still hurt me every time though. My eyes had to have been playing tricks on me. There was no way there was a wedding dress on the floor next to me. Seriously, what the fuck did I do last night?

**_~_ **

"Bluff." I smirked and laid my cards down on the velvety green table. I had to admit, this guy was good. But again, I've been to enough parties and played way too much poker to know when someone is lying or not. Bret shrugged and laid his cards down, taking another shot of whatever drink the bartender had whipped up for him. It seemed to vary in color every time it was brought back. Different drinks or different mixing? Who the hell cared anyway.

"You're better at this than I had thought." A pretty black haired girl walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around his neck, as if trying to give him a hickey. She was pretty hot to be honest. She was wearing a tight red latex top, showing way too much cleavage but it's not that I minded, with very tiny booty shorts and 3-inch stilettos.

Her brown eyes flickered over to me and she made a face, almost as if she was smelling something foul. Which I wouldn't doubt it considering how much shit was going on this club to begin with. "Brendon, Rayna. Rayna, Brendon." The girl, Rayna, giggled and sauntered over to me. She traced her hand along my jawline and looked over at Bret. I couldn't help but let my eyes drift southward for a moment. She sure was well endowed.

Rayna leaned down and whispered in my ear, nibbling on it slightly as she pulled away. "Why don't you come back to the lounge with me and Bret? If you're really the partying type, you'll be up for it." With that, she walked off, swaying her hips slightly. What's the worst that could happen? Poor Ryan though, he was probably going crazy trying to find me. Oh well.

I threw some cash on the table and pushed my way through the crowd, following the girl behind the bar and down a dimly lit hallway. It seemed like something you'd see in those old gangster movies where someone is taking you to see the Godfather before he blows your brains out.

A large bodyguard was standing in the way of the door to the "Lounge". Whatever was going on in there had to be good in order for there to be someone protecting it. Usually they just put an Out Of Order sign up.

The guy nodded at her and stepped aside, letting us in. A large cloud of smoke escaped from the room as the guy opened the door. You could hear quite a few people talking in there, lots of laughing and glasses clinking. The room seemed to be a dark purple, or at least that's what I could make out from under all the Playboy Posters.

The talking all but stopped when we walked in. Wow, talking about not being wanted some place.

"Who the fuck is this guy?" A deep voice muttered, pointing his shot glass at me. He was buff as fuck, with tattoos covering both his arms, neck, and chest from what I could see. He also seemed to be wearing a tight pink crop top and chiffon skirt. Hey, all the power to what you like to do.

Rayna sat down beside the guy, or girl?, and patted the seat next to her. I looked around at everyone sitting on the large couch. There were a few girls who I assumed were strippers, other guys dressed like the first and one tiny dude sitting in the middle of them with girls all around him. He had a glass of what looked like rum in his hand, and smirked over at me.

"Who's this?"

I held out my hand towards him, and smiled friendly. These looked the type of people you didn't wanna piss off in any circumstance. "Brendon." The guy just nodded while one of the girls handed me a small silver tray. It had rows of white powder on it, a few bills rolled up nicely, and a blade sitting in the middle of it all. I raised an eyebrow questioningly at the guy in the middle.

"Coke." He motioned over to a cooler in the corner of the room that some drunk girl seemed to be sleeping on. "And there's some champagne if you'd like. I'm JT by the way."

I've never done coke before, but hey what's the big deal right? If you're going out, you might as go out so much that you wake up in a drain pipe. I grabbed a bill and snorted the white substance, cringing slightly at how it felt in my nose. Yeah, that was something I wouldn't ever get used to. A girl handed me a glass of champagne and sat down in my lap.

After that, I could barley remember what had happened. It was all a blur. The last thing I can clearly remember is losing a bet to the guy in the chiffon skirt and high heels.

**_~_ **

I tried my best to recollect my thoughts of everything that happened. I finally looked around. There were plenty of sets of clothes scattered across the room. On a chair in the far left corner seemed to be a guy, in black high heels and a chiffon skirt. There was a tray sitting next to him, covered in white powder with a few bills and blade on it.

I leaned down and grabbed what I assumed to be my shirt and threw it on quickly. I had to figure out what time it was. Or where I was for that matter. I tossed my feet over the bed and stepped in something cold, wet and chunky. Vomit.

"What the f-!" I shouted and yanked my foot up, wiping it on the hotel blanket. God, I needed to shower soon. I threw the sheet over the puddle of vomit and stood up, only to fall over. I'm a scholar and a gentleman, I usually don't fall when I try to stand.

I grabbed the side of the bed and stood up again, this time more slowly. I was starting to get my vision back fully too. There was a pretty girl asleep in the bed that I was laying in. I shook my head and grabbed the rest of my clothes and checked the time on my phone. Noon with a million missed called and messages all from Ryan asking where I was and if I was okay.

I wasn't about to stick around any longer, so I threw on my clothes and texted him to come to the hotel if he could find it. I turned my location on, so he should be able to. If not, I'd have to ask someone where I was.

He got here rather quickly actually. He looked kind of worried too. "Where the fuck were you all night?! I tried texting you and calling you and I didn't get any answer. Fuck Brendon, I was so goddamn worried! And fucks sake, you look like shit."

I just shrugged and got in his car. "I know." I checked my phone as he drove us home. There were plenty of photos of me in high heels, making out with random girls, and even quite a few videos. Most of them looked to be of the uh, adult industry type. I clicked on one that looked fairly innocent.

"Don't threaten me with a good time!" I screamed from a shopping cart rolling down a hill, in a wedding dress. Was I really I that drunk? Wow, this was one for the history books for sure.

Ryan looked over at me, a confused look on his face. "What the fuck was that?"

I just shrugged again and turned on the radio. "Like I said before, don't threaten me with a good time."


End file.
